


At the End of the Passage

by casual_distance



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Creature Castiel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The witch is trickier than Dean anticipated, and he ends up in the last place he would have ever expected.  He didn’t even know this was a <i>thing</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of the Passage

Dean only has long enough to think _I fucking hate witches_ before he passes out face-first in the snow. 

When he wakes, he’s immobilized by a blanket, a red and blue quilt if his skewed line of sight down his body is accurate. Dean tilts his head up and realizes he’s in a bedroom that opens onto a small living area. The cabin- or wherever the hell he is- is dead silent and Dean thinks he might be alone. He drifts back to sleep before he can figure out much more.

The next few times he wakes, he takes in only bits and pieces: a space heater placed near his bed, loud banging he can’t identify, the low rumble of a voice. He wakes once just long enough to stumble into the small bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Dean finally wakes up enough to push the pile of blankets off his body and make his way into the living room. A man is seated at a small table tucked into a corner of the room by a kitchenette. Dean stares at him because he’s knitting, seemingly unconcerned with a stranger stumbling from his bedroom like an extra in a zombie movie. The man doesn’t look up when he rumbles out a deep “Hello, Dean.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name? Where am I?” Dean opens the front door and looks out across a white wasteland. “Where the fuck am I?” he asks again, staring.

“Antarctica,” the man answers. “Please shut the door. It is difficult to sustain the warmth in here with the door open.”

Dean shuts the door.

He stares at the man. “I’m sorry- Did you say Antarctica?”

The man nods. He still has not looked up at Dean, his hands moving deftly as he manipulates yarn and needles.

“That witch sent me to Antarctica?”

“Mmm.”

“Son of a bitch. That witch sent me to Antarctica.”

The man finally sets down his knitting and looks up at Dean. Dean only has long enough to register his blue eyes before he’s squinting at Dean. “Do you not get sent to Antarctica on a regular basis?”

_What?_ “What? No. Why would I-” Dean shakes his head. “Never mind. Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel. I am the guardian of this passage.”

Dean stares at Castiel while Castiel squints back at him. 

“Passage?” he finally asks.

“Yes.”

“I don’t- What passage?”

Castiel squints further. “The passage to Antarctica.”

“Why is there a passage to Antarctica?”

Now Castiel frowns at him. “Because it’s the easiest way to get to Antarctica. Though travelers usually come more prepared than you did. Most dress appropriately and bring supplies. Perhaps yours were lost?” Castiel’s frown gives way to a hopeful smile.

Dean stares at him. “Who comes to Antarctica?” Dean asks, then immediately backtracks. “I didn’t want to go to Antarctica.”

“Then why did you travel the passage to Antarctica?”

“The witch sent me here.”

Castiel is frowning at Dean again. “That’s usually how one travels the passage to Antarctica.”

“I didn’t want to go to Antarctica.” Dean is beginning to wonder if he’s speaking English. Castiel also looks like he’s beginning to wonder if Dean is speaking English. Dean decides to try another tactic.

“Okay, look. How do I get back home?”

“Usually a witch sends you.”

“Okay. Great, I guess. How do I find a witch?”

Castiel is now squinting _and_ frowning. “If you do not know a witch, why would you come to Antarctica?”

“I didn’t-” Dean rubs his face with his hands. “Okay, look. A witch attacked me and my brother, and while we were fighting, he sent me to Antarctica.”

“That wasn’t very nice of him.”

“No,” Dean says. “No, it wasn’t.” He waits a moment, but when Castiel doesn’t speak, Dean sighs. “Do you know of a way I can get home?”

Castiel smiles at him then, but it’s not the same hopeful or guileless smile as before. It’s amused and Castiel’s eyes are sharply blue and Dean realizes-

“Son of a bitch.” He drops himself down into the chair across from Castiel. “Do you always harass the people you rescue?”

“Not generally, no.”

“So, I’m special then.”

Castiel’s smile widens.

“Great. Wonderful. Care to share with the class _why_ you felt the need to pick on me?”

“Because I was waiting for-” A loud banging on the front door interrupts Castiel. They both turn to look at it. “-that,” he finishes, rising from his seat. 

Castiel opens the door and there’s Sam, bundled up in a heavy jacket and snow boots, two backpacks slung over one shoulder.

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” Dean exclaims, lunging toward Sam and jerking one of the backpacks from his hands. “I thought I was going to be stuck in Antarctica forever.”

“Gee, thanks, Cas, for your hospitality and keeping my brother alive after he ended up on a block of ice in nothing but jeans and a flannel shirt.” Sam glares at him. 

Beside Sam, Castiel is laughing, mouth stretched wide in a grin that shows his gums and makes his nose wrinkle.

Dean pouts.

“It’s alright, Sam. I believe Dean is merely tired of my teasing.”

Dean rolls his eyes when Sam grins at Castiel. He focuses on opening the backpack Sam had brought for him.

“Sorry it took so long to get here,” Sam says to Castiel as Dean pulls out the winter gear stuffed inside. “Charlie couldn’t find a local witch with the ability to open the passage.”

“It’s no problem, Sam. Will you two be able to find your way back?”

Dean ducks into the bedroom to change, missing the rest of Sam and Castiel’s conversation, and when he comes out Sam is shaking Castiel’s hand. Castiel turns to Dean and smiles again, one Dean can’t help returning.

He steps up next to Castiel and holds out his hand. Castiel takes it, and Dean says, with a shrug, “So, thanks for keeping me alive, I guess.”

Sam snorts, and Castiel’s grin grows wider. “I’m sure I will see you again, Dean, if you insist on picking fights with witches.”

“Hey now,” Dean protests. “He attacked us first.”

Castiel hums placatingly, earning a glare from Dean while Sam chuckles. Dean follows Sam out into the snow, casting a glance over his shoulder to see Castiel standing in the doorway. His last thought is that Castiel is wrong; he won’t see Dean again.

A few months later Dean finds himself in a familiar icy landscape and this time all he can think is _son of a bitch_.


End file.
